The Demon Road Trilogy: The Complete Collection: Demon Road; Desolation; American Monsters. Derek LandyЧитать онлайн книгу.
far. Isn’t that lucky?”
Glen stood up, clutching his hand. “We have to go! We have to go now!”
“Sit down, sit down,” said Abigail. “I don’t know where they’d be this early in the evening. I know where they’ll be tonight, though.”
“We can’t wait that long,” Glen said.
“Of course you can. You stay here and I’ll be back when I know more. This is a busy bar and I am a busy lady. Enjoy the atmosphere.”
She gave them another smile, swung her feet off the chair, and hopped off and walked away.
Glen hesitated, then sat back down, and Milo leaned in. “You accepted the Deathmark?”
“Did I?” said Glen. “Oh right, yeah. Yeah, the old guy may have said something about … uh, what was it? In order to pass the Deathmark to another person, that other person has to willingly accept it. Or something.”
Amber glared at Glen. “You said you were attacked.”
Glen looked hurt. “I was!”
“You said you were attacked by a creature.”
Glen nodded. “Or a creature-like person, yes.”
“I’m sorry? What? What’s a creature-like person?”
“It’s a, I mean, it’s a person that looks like a creature, obviously. Like a, y’know … an old person.”
“You said creature.”
“I meant old person.”
“And you accepted the Mark?” said Milo.
“I didn’t know what it was!” Glen said. “This old guy comes out of the shadows and attacks me—”
“Attacks you?”
“—or talks to me, or whatever, and he says he’s about to die, will I take this Mark of Death to its intended target, a terrible person called Abigail who’s been hiding in this bar in America … What am I supposed to say? No?”
“Yes,” said Amber. “You’re supposed to say no.”
“Well, I’d say no now,” said Glen. “Obviously, I’d say no now. I’m in possession of all the facts now. But back then I wasn’t. And he seemed so harmless and he … he reminded me a little of my granddad.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
“What? My granddad was very important to me growing up.”
“So just because he reminded you of your dearly departed grandfather—”
“Oh no, granddad’s not dead. He’s just living in Cork.”
Amber glared. “He told you to kill someone in America and you said yes.”
“My granddad?”
“Soto.”
Glen paused. “I suppose I did say yes, yeah. But I’d never been to America and I’d always wanted to go. This seemed like the perfect opportunity.”
“You,” said Milo, “are an incredibly stupid person.”
Glen slumped in his seat. “Whatever.”
Amber stood, and Glen’s mouth dropped open.
“You’re abandoning me?”
“I’m going to the restroom.”
“Oh. Uh. Carry on.”
Sighing, she walked away from the table. She found the restroom, which turned out to be delightfully clean, and on her return trip she passed the dance floor. She saw Abigail, flanked by two burly members of staff, pointing to a woman doing her best to avoid eye contact. The staff members walked up either side of the woman, said a few words. The woman shook her head stiffly. The people she’d been talking to, her friends, took their drinks and moved away. She watched them go, pleading with her eyes.
The staff members took a firm grip of her elbows, led her to a room in the back. They nudged her gently through the open door and she immediately turned, tried to leave, tried to talk, but she was crying too much to get the words out.
Abigail was joined by the other children. The way they smiled sent actual shivers down Amber’s spine. Six of them, six beautiful little children, walking for the room now. The staff members moved away. The woman stepped back, hands up to keep the children at a distance. Her knees buckled. She was in hysterics now. The little boys took thin knives from their pockets and the little girls took thin knives from their purses, and they went into that room and the woman started screaming and the door closed.
Amber hurried back to their table. “The kids are killers,” she said, interrupting whatever Glen was saying to Milo. “The kids,” she said again. “The children. Abigail. I just saw them go after a woman with knives in their hands.”
Glen frowned. “Seriously?”
“Yes, Glen. Seriously.”
“They’re actual killers, like? Actual murderers?” The moment he said it, panic set in. “We have to get out of here. We have to leave. Don’t we? Who goes first? We can’t make it obvious that we’re leaving.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” said Milo.
“Did you not hear what she said?”
“We’re waiting for Abigail’s instructions. What she does here in the privacy of her own bar is her own business. It’s got nothing to do with us.”
“You don’t seem surprised,” Amber said to Milo. “About the killer kids.”
“Of course not,” he replied. “I recognised her the moment I saw her.”
“You know her?”
“I’ve read about her. She’s Abigail Gateling. Killed her entire family when she was eight years old. She was shipped off to an insane asylum while the authorities were figuring out what to do with her. She escaped the asylum and knocked on the first door she came to. She was found the next morning, drenched in blood.”
Glen gaped. “And she’s loose?”
“She’s dead,” said Milo. “This all happened in 1932.”
Amber stared at him. Glen started crying. It kind of ruined the moment.
THE CHARGER WAS WAITING for them when they emerged from the bar. Night had fallen.
Milo took one of the maps from the glove compartment, planning their route from the directions Abigail had given them. When he was satisfied, he folded the map and passed it to Amber, and they started driving.
Glen sat in the back and didn’t say much. If everything went according to plan, he would be free of the Deathmark by the end of the night. If everything went according to plan, he would be responsible for somebody’s death.
The further they moved from the city, the wider the spaces became. Houses had room to breathe, and they drew in big, deep breaths. Thirsty lawns became crabgrass and scrub bush. The landscape exploded outwards, rearing up into mountains that loomed dark against the night sky. The roads became wide trails of dust.
They drove for another half an hour, until they had left all trace of civilisation behind, and Milo pulled over. Leaving the engine running, he opened up a map.
“Are we lost?” Glen asked.
“No, we are not,” said Milo. “Just figuring out where to go. They should